


White Noise

by GlitchedMindy



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s04e02 Somebody's Been Reading Dante's Inferno, Gen, Heavy Angst, Memory Loss, Psychological Trauma, Sad Ending, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitchedMindy/pseuds/GlitchedMindy
Summary: Chloe does "roofie" the Devil at the end of 4.02 but changes her mind and rushes him down to the hospital when he falls unconscious. He wakes up, but something is very wrong.





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my amazing betas [Hircine_Taoist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hircine_Taoist/pseuds/Hircine_Taoist) and [HiroMyStory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory). They did a great job making it look like I can write English. Any remaining mistakes are mine!
> 
> While I didn’t write that story specifically for the [2019 Whumptober challenge](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/post/187785964678/whumptober2019-october-approaches-and-so-does), some words in my original draft matched and I had fun trying to add more of them, so let’s say that counts! Whumptober prompts : _Tear-stained_, _abandoned_, _recovery_, _embrace_, and the alternate _nightmare_.

It’s the betrayal that hurts the most.

It’s the look of horror and guilt on Chloe’s face when the poison started to tear its way into his insides, her blurted apologies when she called 911. Because he instantly understood then, while the darkness overtook him.

She _betrayed him_.

Beyond the burn of the poison, the incessant mechanical whirring of the machines, he feels like his heart is going to burst from the pain of that betrayal. It _hurts_ and he wants it to stop.

_Why_, Chloe?

But he knows the answer, of course. He let himself hope that maybe she would still accept him, still accept the Devil, but of course she couldn’t. How could he let himself believe he deserves anything more? Hope has poisoned his heart and now he hurts. He _hurts_. He _hurts_!

His eyes roll in their sockets while he convulses, his body trying to protect itself from the agony both in his mind and flesh but finding no relief anywhere. He’s too weak from the drug—she _poisoned_ him! Why, Chloe? _Why?_—and the pain is excruciating, he wants to move away from it and can’t. Chloe’s anguished voice, in the background, makes things so much worse. There’s a horrible wail that resonates through the too bright hospital room, a cry so full of despair and pain that he feels like he’s back in Hell and he doesn’t want to be.

He wants it all to stop—please, please, make it stop, _make it stop_!

Something gives inside of him. Splinters. There’s a pain beyond any other, and the wail turns into screams. Then, suddenly, the pain ceases.

The terrible cry is replaced by the hushed murmurs of people in the room. For a brief moment, his mind is blessedly blank, devoid of any thoughts or emotions. Then the darkness claims him again.

* * *

“Could you please leave?”

Chloe flinches. It’s the first time Lucifer has spoken to her since he woke up, all disoriented, but already looking better. She can’t blame him. She wants to apologize, tell him she was wrong and stupid, but she can’t seem to find the right moment for it, split between worry and guilt. So she let the silence claim the space between them during the last half hour.

“You want me to leave?” she asks, trying to buy time, to find a way to tell him—

“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you,” he replies with a frown. “Usually, I would enjoy the presence of such a beautiful lady in my room, despite the…circumstances.” He gestures to the hospital bed with distaste. “But it seems your presence upsets me.”

“I—I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, the more you stay, the more I feel irritated,” he explains. “This is unsettling. Please, leave.”

“Luci-”

“Leave.” He outright _growls_, and his eyes flash red.

And she can’t…she can’t stay, despite the questions that have arisen. Because she knows she did something terrible to Lucifer, and she can’t face the consequences. Because beyond the look of utter distaste he sends her, there’s also a complete, utter lack of recognition.

Lucifer doesn’t know her. Not anymore.

* * *

He has nightmares.

They make no sense. Formless, whispering shadows crawl around him, and he feels like his head will split in two every time he tries to focus on them. Despite this, he wants to see what they’re hiding, desperately _needs_ to before he loses something important. And when finally the shadows disperse for him to see what is beyond, the pain becomes unbearable and his only desire is for it to _stop_.

He hates the nightmares as much as he hates this place. He wants to go home, but his body takes _ages_ to recover from whatever happened to him. What kind of poison was that? Was it celestial in origin? Is his Father up to new shenanigans? What, exactly, happened to him?

Amenadiel is of no help in this matter. His brother makes inquiries about Ch—_noise, chattering noise filling his ears, blanking out anything else_—and, later, Mazikeen mostly rants angrily about how he was betr—_too much noise, make it stop_—so Lucifer lets the subject drop for now, because no one is making sense about what happened or why he has to stay, bored to death, into such a grim place.

He talks to Linda at some point and she is oddly careful, like he’s made of glass. It’s irritating, but when she prods too much about what happened, his attention seems to slip. Not to mention that _noise_. In the end, she seems to think that Ch—_the poison, it was the poison_—did something to him, or rather, his _mind_. He’ll have to take it slowly for now, focus on his recovery. He does feel weak and light headed. And for some reason, he loses track of time easily.

That woman comes, too. She tells him about a man responsible for his current state, who is still out there and could make another attempt, but something feels wrong about it. He doesn’t remember being poisoned by a man. He remembers having a delightful evening in pleasant company—_who?_—and then everything gets dark. Well, she said she was a police detective, didn’t she? She probably knows what she’s talking about.

The problem is, she acts like she knows him and for some reason it strongly irritates Lucifer. He finds her presence repulsive. _Like, on a chemical level_. It’s surprising, never happened before. Her voice grates his nerves and she always takes an eternity to leave him alone.

* * *

“Go away.” Lucifer snarls when she enters the room. “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me when I tell them not to allow you in here?”

“It’s because I’m a police detective,” she answers. “My name is Chloe Decker. Do you remember?”

He gives her his best scornful look.

“As it happens, I have a rather good memory. I just don’t want to recall you. At all.”

Saying her name always makes his insides squirm. Maze told him to be wary of her, after a conversation so filled with that dreadful _noise_ that he doesn’t recall much of anything else. His gaze follows her with suspicion as she plops onto the available chair.

“Why do you dislike me so much?”

“Why do you keep harassing me? Have I committed some crime?”

“Because I–”

White noise fills his brain once again and this time Lucifer _tries_ to push through it, because maybe she’ll give him something to make her go away. And because he feels like he _needs_ to. But the more he tries, the worse it gets, to the point of being painful. And he can’t…it’s too much, he doesn’t want the pain. He wants it to _stop_. And for a brief instant, it does. He feels delightfully empty, freed from pain and worry, and this is the best feeling he ever had. He wishes he could be empty forever.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“Mmmh, no, indeed.” The feeling is gone, and he mourns it silently before frowning at his unpleasant visitor. “Didn’t I tell you to go? Who do I have to bribe for you to stop coming?”

* * *

As it happens, Beatrice Espinoza is the daughter of that dreadful woman. For some reason the fact escaped him until the little spawn just invaded his space in a display of unprompted affection. While he does appreciate the little urchin a tiny bit, it doesn’t change anything concerning her mother.

Being around Beatrice makes his head buzz a lot more. It’s worrying, and at times painful, but he doesn’t have the heart to send her away. There’s something in her presence that fills him with longing. Sometimes, though, he lets the white noise consume her words until his awareness fades into that peaceful, blissful nothingness. When he comes back and apologizes, she just looks at him with sadness in her eyes.

He’s the Devil, after all. He can’t help but hurt even innocent children. It would be best if she stayed away from him.

* * *

They finally let him go home. When he reaches the penthouse, the white noise rises once again and doesn’t stop. He’s tired of this bloody buzzing in his ears, of feeling uncomfortable under his own roof. He wants it gone. He starts the stereo system and music invades his space, drowning the noise. For a time.

In his nightmares, the shadows keep whispering to him, asking, pleading, and he doesn’t want to look at them, but if he doesn’t, he feels like he’ll lose something important. And when he looks, the pain overwhelms him once again and he begs for everything to _stop_.

* * *

It’s not long before he comes back to the precinct, in search of a partner he never seems to find yet never stops looking for. What was the name of his partner, again? He misses them. Why can’t he find them? That infuriating woman always seems to be in the way, and Miss Lopez seems weirdly preoccupied when he asks for his partner, and Dan is being a Douche, and… More often than not, _something_ in that particular mix fills his brain with noise, then pain, until he can’t take it anymore and he’s gone, for a while.

Somebody tells him to stop coming. Or did he decide it himself? Maybe his partner does not need him anymore. He probably deserved it.

* * *

He doesn’t know why that buzzing noise won’t leave him alone, but Lucifer starts to crave the emptiness that takes it away sometimes. Linda tells him it’s not a good idea, that it’s not a _good coping mechanism_, but it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. It happens when the white noise becomes too much, and he doesn’t control the white noise.

He’s not stupid, he knows something is wrong, deeply wrong. Something is missing. Something he can feel on the fringes of his awareness. He knows that the incessant noise comes when he wanders too close to it. He knows it’s linked to the poisoning, the penthouse, the precinct, even little Beatrice Espinoza, but he just can’t solve the puzzle. It’s easier not to think too much about it.

Linda explains that it’s his brain’s defense mechanism against what happened to him, that it might get worse if he isn’t careful. She tells him that he’s _avoiding an issue_, that he has to face it at some point, that he can’t give up, but he doesn’t understand. It’s getting harder to care about anything lately. Giving in to the emptiness’s embrace is just so much easier. It’s so much better than any drug he ever had the pleasure to taste, and so peaceful, free from worry. He can’t stop wishing for it to come back, he can’t stop, _he wants everything to stop_.

Maybe the nothingness would take away the nightmares, too.

* * *

Time stutters strangely and then there’s Eve and she’s sweet and beautiful, but it’s hard, so hard to care. Yet, when trouble follows her arrival, Lucifer helps her, in the hope she’ll make the blank noise go away, help him focus on what is happening around him. And it seems to work, at first. He especially has fun in the bar when the necklace thief sends her goons after them. That is, until that annoying detective comes again and ruins the mood. He hates when she looks at him like that. It feels _wrong_. Like she _cares_. He doesn’t care for her.

He misses his—_Detective!_—partner. They were the best team when they had a case to solve. Where did they go? Why did they abandon him? Was he not good enough?

He loses track a bit, but by the end of the day they get that necklace back. He has a talk with Eve, about feelings and insecurity—_and Her_—and he tries to change the subject before she goes too far, in vain. She prods around that specific place in his mind and suddenly the blank noise is all he can hear and everything hurts, hurts, _hurts_ and he won’t, he _can’t_.

When the lotus fruit comes into his reach, Lucifer takes it without a second thought.

He’s away for longer, this time. When he comes back to his senses, her face is tear-stained, filled with worry, but instead of answering her questions he just kisses her and goes to bed.

In his nightmare, that feeling of losing something important is unbearable now. He knows he _must_ do something before it’s too late, but then the void comes and everything is better again.

* * *

There are voices, in the white noise. Many, many voices, whispering, chattering, trying to catch his attention, telling him what a worthless, miserable being he is.

Lucifer wants some bloody peace and quiet, and no amount of alcohol or drugs or sex can make that buzzing go away. The nothingness is the only thing that gives him some reprieve, and he knows he shouldn’t seek it out, Linda told him so, but he _needs it_. Needs more than just little, fleeting moments of peace. It’s harder and harder to care for anything else, now. What is the point, after all? Eve loves somebody who isn’t there anymore. Linda’s advice is useless against the noise. None of his friends—did he have friends?—can help, they just make the buzzing worse when they’re talking to him, and he hates it.

He’s crumbling away, he knows it, he _feels_ it, but maybe that’s better than the gripping loneliness that seizes him when he allows himself to think.

* * *

He should look, he should _remember_ what is missing, he knows it, but it hurts, and he doesn’t want to suffer anymore. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.

* * *

After a while, he realizes there’s nothing out here that isn’t painful. So, he bites one last time into the fruit of oblivion, and lets the emptiness take him. This time, he doesn’t come back.

* * *

They don’t know what is wrong with Lucifer. There’s a blissful smile on his lips and a complete void in his eyes. He’s alive, healthy even, but he doesn’t _live_ any longer.

Eve cries and begs, Amenadiel tries, Linda stays silent, and Chloe despairs. It’s useless. He doesn’t hear anyone anymore.

Finally, his mind is silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Before you ask: Sorry, I won't fix it in another chapter. But you're welcome to do so! I wrote that fic because I couldn't get rid of the idea in my brain, but I would _love_ to see someone else's take on that idea.


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